A Different Kind of Doctor
by Alligates
Summary: Spencer Reid's headaches have been worse than ever. He still doesn't know what ails him, but when he is thrown into the TARDIS and meets the Doctor, he learns that there is one possibility he would never have thought to consider. In fact, so strange is this possibility that not even the Doctor himself quite understands it; telepathy is a strange and maddening concept, after all.
1. From Bad to Worse

**Hello! I am back! And with a new story!**  
**Well, it's not really all that new... but I thought I should probably upload it at some point, so. Here you go!**

**For all of you wondering about my other stories: not to worry! I am still continuing them; I am simply the slowest writer in the universe. **

**Alright then, on to the story!**

* * *

Spencer Reid was having a bad day.

Granted, most days weren't exactly good, what with his constant headaches and the horrors of his job, but this day was definitely one of the worst. Said headaches were usually manageable, with a couple of aspirin or a short nap, but some days, they just reached a point where any type of medication meant nothing.

This was one of those days.

Spencer's migraine was a tight band of pain, wrapped around his head directly behind his eyes. His dark sunglasses did little to block out the blinding sunlight, and his vision couldn't stay in focus for too long. The noise of the train as it groaned to a stop for him was enough to make him whimper slightly. He didn't think any of the other passengers noticed or cared, not that he would have been aware enough to realize if they had. He had to try very hard just to simply walk out of the train without stumbling and slowly made his way to the building that housed the BAU.

Spencer had already been feeling a little cold before, and he froze when he entered the air-conditioned bullpen. He staggered over to the coffee machine, even though he knew the bitter dark liquid would do little to help him. He leaned against the wall, enjoying the minuscule amount of support the surface allowed his weary form. But the small moment of comfort was short-lived, as the machine then chose to let out a severe beep, letting the young doctor know that his drink was ready. Spencer didn't even take note of the amount as he poured in as much sugar as physics would allow him to dissolve into his coffee. Satisfied with the mixture, he took a small sip, walking a little more steadily to his desk.

Emily was already there, leaning over some papers at her own desk beside his. She glanced up as he plopped down, taking things out of his messenger bag. She caught a glimpse of various bottles of aspirin, most (if not all) of them empty. If she hadn't already known about his headaches, she probably would have suspected him of trying to overdose on prescription medicine.

She watched as Reid opened a file with a quiet sigh. Emily pushed her papers away, rolling her chair closer to the low wall separating them.

"Hey," she murmured, "you okay?"

Spencer stared at her, wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights. He opened his mouth, presumably to deny anything and everything, but then thought better of it and looked away. She already knew, and she _was_ a seasoned profiler, after all. There wasn't much you could lie about when faced with such an opponent.

"I…" he began, not sure what to say. He didn't want to have to ramble about to get his thoughts known; it had painful enough just to utter that single letter.  
Thankfully, she seemed to understand. "Headache?" she inquired softly.  
He gave her a tiny, sad smile. He would have nodded, but he knew firsthand the consequences of nodding with a headache.

She frowned. "The doctors…."

He gave a tiny shake of his head, looking down at the papers before him. "Couldn't find anything."

Emily said nothing. Spencer could still feel her eyes on him, but he ignored her, doing his best to read the blurry file in front of him. He tried not to be worried about the fact that he could barely see.

He had only managed to decipher the first page before JJ appeared out of nowhere, a stack of papers under her arm, sleek blond ponytail swishing behind her.

She sighed. "We've got a case."

The members of the BAU wordlessly got to their feet, packing up bags and downing half-empty cups of coffee. The bullpen was soon empty, save two people. Morgan noticed Spencer being a little slower than usual, and stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for him to catch up.

"Hey, Pretty Boy," he called, "you coming?"

The young genius tried to hide a flinch at his friend's loud voice. "Yeah, hold on…." He blindly shoved a few more papers and pencils into his messenger bag before easing himself out of his chair, walking around his cubicle to Emily's side. Only, before he got there, he stumbled, falling to the floor with a surprised yelp.

Reid was about to wearily pull himself to his feet, stammer out an apology, and ignore Derek's inevitable mocking, only… he wasn't in the bullpen anymore.

* * *

Morgan let out a chuckle as the young genius tripped over nothing and fell to the ground, behind the small wall separating his desk from Emily's, out of his line of sight.

He waited ten seconds.

His laughter died in his throat when Spencer didn't get up. He frowned, taking a few steps forwards. "Reid?"

No answer.

He stepped closer still, leaning to the side to see better. "You okay, Reid?"

Silence.

Morgan stepped completely around the small wall.

Reid wasn't there.

The dark-skinned agent frowned deeper, bending over and checking under the desk. He walked all the way around the two cubicles, straightening with a huff. _What the hell…?_

"Morgan?" Garcia's voice inquired. He turned around, looking up at her at the top of the stairs. She cocked an eyebrow at him. "What are you doing?"

He stared at the spot on the ground for a few more moments, before reluctantly pulling back and turning to look at the colourful woman beckoning him. "Garcia, I might need you to pull up some security footage."

Penelope frowned, worry marring her features. When her Chocolate God called her by her name, business was serious. "Sure thing… why?"

It took him a little while to answer. "I have absolutely no idea," he said honestly.

* * *

Spencer blinked a few times, trying to convince himself he was hallucinating. Unfortunately, the image didn't fade.

He was half-sitting, half-lying on a metal grid floor in a big, circular room, and there were artistically strange pillars curving up like coral from the floor to the ceiling. The walls seemed to be lined with some sort of metal with lit up hexagonal indents at regular intervals, and there were a thousand different wires hanging down from the ceiling, and a few beneath the floor, connecting who-knows-what to who-knows-where. The centre of the room, though, was by far the most intriguing. There was a circular console with a round, transparent pillar shooting out of the middle. Inside the pillar were a bunch of clear tubes that didn't seem to serve a purpose, and the whole thing pulsed with an eerie turquoise light.

But most interesting of all was the thin man in a pinstripe suit who was ogling him from the console.

A beat passed with the two men staring at each other, utter confusion apparent in the face of each.

And then all hell broke loose, in the form of the suited man snapping up and leaping towards him, a frown upon his shaven face. He wordlessly pulled Spencer to his feet, pushing him to and fro to observe at his every angle, tightly gripping his shoulder. Reid was slightly unnerved by the examination being performed by this stranger, but was far to befuddled to do anything about it.

The strange man—still frowning yet now with a more childlike fascination—took out a pen-like object and pointed it at Spencer's eyes, causing him to flinch back at the bright assault of blue light. The object hummed for a minute, before quieting with a soft _bleep_. The man frowned in concentration at something on its side, releasing Reid's shoulder.

The man in the suit's large eyes widened more than seemed possible, and he stared from the blue pen-thing, to Reid, and back again.

"But… but… but… what?" he exclaimed. He had an English accent, to Spencer's bewilderment, and a very expressive voice.

Spencer didn't understand anything that was going on. "E-excuse me, but… where am I? And who are you?"

The suited man made a very shocked face, practically ignoring his words. "You're American?" He turned back to his console, swinging around a screen and keyboard, flicking a few stray wires out of the way. "Wait, how did you get from America… but…? I suppose it is possible, but that's still quite a jump, though…."

The young profiler was at a loss for words. The other man continued to babble on, but it was complete gibberish—even to Reid.

Fortunately (or not) he didn't really _have _to say anything, for just then, his headache hit him full force. He was unprepared for the sudden amount of pressure pushing into his mind. He emitted a small grunt, scrunching up his eyes and digging his fingers into them. He had no explanation for the excruciating pain he was in; it had never got this bad before. _Tell me again this is psychosomatic_, he thought bitterly, even as he felt his mind shutting itself down.

The other man, thankfully, managed to catch him before he hit the ground, gently lowering him so he didn't hit his head on anything.

Spencer's last thoughts were just hoping that the man knew what was going on better than he did.

And then everything faded away.

* * *

**Aaaaaand that's chapter one!**  
**I'm currently working on chapter two, but I can't say when I'll have it finished.**

**Bear with me, please. I am a pathological procrastinator. **

**Please review, and feel free to ask questions/point out mistakes/etc!**


	2. An Unnerving Revelation

**And in this chapter, I give you... the beginnings of a plot! Hooray!**

**That's all I really wanted to say... I hope you like it!**

* * *

Spencer was positive he was going to open his eyes and be back at the BAU; victim of an unlikely filing accident, maybe.

And then he actually opened his eyes, and his hopes were crushed.  
He was on the gridded floor of the same strange room, with the English man frowning concernedly down at him, holding his head down with a long-fingered hand.

"Don't get up right now, Spencer," he said, interrupting the young doctor's unvoiced words. "I still don't know what's wrong with you."

Spencer frowned. He had a million questions, and then some, but the first thing that came to mind was, "How do you know my name?"

The suited man frowned deeper, and Spencer noticed that he now had on a pair of stylish glasses as he peered down at him. "I know a lot of things," he answered absently. "Now, hold still…." The man then proceeded to take out his glowing-blue-pen-thing once more, buzzing it again at Spencer's face. He flicked it away, reading something off the side. He nodded to himself, seeming satisfied.

Reid, on the other hand, was anything but.

He had never felt so out of his depth, knowledge-wise.

The man then seemed to realize that his patient was still present. "You're not in immediate danger. You can get up now, if you want." He removed his hand and leaned away, sitting back on his haunches, watching Spencer expectantly.

The young FBI agent sat up slowly, never taking his eyes off the strange man. "How did I get here?"

The other man blinked. "Oh. Right. _That_. I have yet to figure _that_ out, I'm afraid." He frowned to himself. "Second time this has happened, actually. Though, very different circumstances, I suspect. You haven't had anyone bring you coffee every day, have you?"

"What? No, I—I usually get it myself, why—?"

"Oh, nothing. It's not that. It couldn't be, really. Impossible." He nodded to himself with a small frown. "Mostly."

Spencer brought his legs closer to himself, gaping at the eccentric man beside him. "I don't understand what you're talking about."

The other's gaze descended back to the young doctor's. "No, I wouldn't expect you to." He extended a thin hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm the Doctor."

Spencer, against his every instinct, shook the Doctor's hand. "Doctor who?"

The 'Doctor' let out a pleased little laugh, tilting his head slightly. "Just the Doctor."

Reid blinked. "Okay." He knew better than to question someone so clearly lost in their own delusions—at least, this man _seemed_ deluded. Something told him otherwise, but he didn't quite want to listen to that little something at the moment.

"Alright then!" The Doctor sprang to his feet, clapping his hands together and turning around to walk around his console. "You probably have plenty of questions, so we'll try to do them all at once." He spun on his heels, facing Spencer once more. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

Reid quickly got to his feet, still trying to determine the levels of hostility theoretically present in the other individual.

When he said nothing, the Doctor flapped an unconcerned hand. "Go on, then."

Spencer cleared his throat, fiddling with his hands awkwardly. "Where are we?"

"We're in my TARDIS."

"Wha—"

"Time And Relative Dimensions In Space," the suited man said immediately. "Well," he added, lightly scrunching up his face, "we're technically sitting in the middle of London… but we're _inside_ the TARDIS."

Spencer paused for a moment before his eyes widened. "This is a time machine?"

The Doctor made a happy little noise. "You catch on fast. I like you."

Spencer wasn't really listening. "And it travels through space?"

"Among other things, yes," the Doctor said, shrugging.

The FBI agent was lost in his own little world. Something about the man made him believe it unconditionally; this was a real, functioning time machine. He stared at the console, taking in every little knob and lever, filing it away in his mind for later use. The walls, he suspected, were a lot thicker than they seemed; probably in layers, to be able to withstand the conditions of travel. He didn't quite understand how it could pass through time, but he definitely had a few theories that would need discussing.

The Doctor beamed at the young man's unmasked awe and curiosity. It had been a while since he'd had anyone so… interested. It was refreshing.

"And what are you, exactly?" Spencer asked, not looking away from the control panels.

The other man blinked in mild surprise. "I'm sorry?"

The young genius' head snapped up. "Oh, sorry, that may have seemed a little inconsiderate of me… but you're not human, are you?" He tilted his head. Spencer was too mentally occupied to be concerned by how unaffected he was by this new information. The man had called him '_human_' earlier, so it wasn't an idea taken out of nowhere, but if he'd been paying closer attention he would have been mildly surprised by how his mind had made such an assumption.

The Doctor leant back on a railing, blowing out a long breath. He'd definitely not been expecting this. It seemed the unassuming young man before him was far more peculiar than he'd originally figured. "No, actually. Timelord."

Reid nodded, silently repeating the word to himself. "And you… what, travel around the universe? What for?" He readied himself for the reply, putting himself into profiler-mode; as innocently intrigued as he seemed, he still didn't quite trust the man whose spaceship he'd suddenly found himself in.

The Doctor paused for answering. "Just… to travel." He seemed lightly bemused by the question.

"But is there a _point_ to your travels, Doctor? Are you an adventurer of some sort?"

"Well, I-I suppose, but…" the timelord stuttered. When had this become an interrogation?

Spencer narrowed his eyes, taking in every minute detail of the Doctor's body language. "How long have you been travelling alone, Doctor?"

The Doctor closed his mouth, eyebrows rising in surprise. "Not long, I just—"

"What are you running from?"

The Doctor stared at him for a long time, and Reid found himself staring back with the same intensity. It was strange, since the younger man usually wasn't too keen on eye contact.

"Alright, Spencer," the Doctor finally said quietly, "I think that's enough for the questions. We need to talk about you, now."

The young FBI agent said nothing, but relaxed his stance slightly. He wasn't aware of how tense he'd become during the impromptu questioning.

"I've determined," the Doctor went on, "that there is something about _you_, Spencer. Your mind. It's not quite ordinary, is it?"

Spencer didn't answer. He didn't have to.

The Doctor nodded, pacing slightly as he continued. "Now. I don't yet know how you got into my TARDIS, or why, but you're here now, and there must be a reason for it, so let's figure it out!" He stepped almost uncomfortably close to the younger man, expression serious. "This part might feel a little strange. I'm going to need you to close your eyes."

Spencer felt no obligation to comply, and took a small step back. "I, um, don't really think that's necessary…."

"Oh, it's nothing bad, I promise!" Spencer somehow felt that the Doctor's promises weren't exactly the most reliable things. "I'm just going to have a look into your mind. It won't hurt." He frowned. "Probably."

Reid took another step back. "I'm sorry, Doctor, but I don't—"

"Oh, enough of that! I just want to help! You've been having headaches, correct?"

"How did you—"

"It's quite easy to see. I can tell you're squinting, even in the TARDIS' dim lights. In fact, you're having one right now, aren't you?"

Spencer's mouth was a thin line. "Listen, I don't know who you are, or why I'm here, but there are people probably looking for me, and—"

"How bad is it?"

"It feels like there's a giant needle trying to drill its way out through my eyeballs," he admitted. He felt no sense in denying it, what with how insistent the man was being. As if having been summoned by the confession, a dozen small signs of weariness were suddenly made visible, most notably in the tired slump of his shoulders and the dark circles under his eyes.

The Doctor nodded in sympathy. "I can help," he said, gently but firmly.

Spencer hardly dared let himself hope, but his eyes widened nonetheless.

"The—the doctors haven't been able to find anything. I've been to seven hospitals in the state of Virginia alone, and—"

"Oh, my dear Spencer," the Doctor interrupted, grinning cheekily, "you seem to have forgotten; I'm not your ordinary doctor."

* * *

After a long examination that left Spencer feeling like more questions had been raised than answered, the Doctor voiced the available options.

"Oh, it could be a number of things… a parasite, a disease, a tumour…." He sounded so nonchalant, it scared Spencer a little. "It could also be a block on your mind. Someone might be hiding your memories. You never know," he said, shrugging. _Or… it could also be psychosomatic. _

"It's not," Spencer said, scowling.

The Doctor blinked, mouth open. "It's not what?"

"It's not psychosomatic."

The Doctor continued to blink confusedly. "I didn't say it was."

Spencer narrowed his eyes further, annoyed. "Yes, you did."

The timelord's brow scrunched slightly as he replied. "No, I didn't, but I…." His eyes widened. "Oh. _Oh_." He jumped slightly at some realization, running over to pull a screen from the console towards him. "Okay, I have a theory! But first… Spencer, will you just watch to this recording of a few seconds ago?"

Spencer didn't question the existence of such a recording. The TARDIS was probably always keeping track, after all.

He listened as their past conversation resurfaced.

_"Someone might be hiding your memories. You never know."_

_ "It's not."_

There was no in between. The Doctor really hadn't said anything about it being psychosomatic.

Reid felt mildly faint. He grabbed a spinning chair behind him and plopped down heavily into it.

"Am I going insane, Doctor?" he asked helplessly, holding his head between shaking hands. He wanted to believe it wasn't true, but there was no hiding it now. He was hearing voices. He didn't know how distressed he was supposed to feel at the moment.

But the Doctor was quick to reply, attempting to quell his worries. "Oh, Spencer, no! Of course not, it's not that at all! I wasn't certain before, but now…." The Doctor cleared his throat. "I don't know if you're going to like this information, Spencer, but you really should know." He seemed at once brimming with excitement and apprehension.

The young doctor looked up, not knowing quite what he was expecting, but wanting it heard.

"Spencer, I don't think your brain is trying to tell you anything at all. I think it's trying to _do_ something."

The young FBI agent tilted his head in inquisition.

"That part about it being psychosomatic… I didn't say it, I _thought_ it."

Reid sucked in a breath, but he didn't tell the Doctor to refrain from saying what he'd already guessed. His wide eyes showed a desire—no, a _need_—to understand.

"Spencer… I think you can read minds."

* * *

**Aaaaand there we go! Potential plot material, am I right?**

**Expect more from the BAU in Quantico next chapter.**

**Oh, and in case no one understood the whole "has anyone been giving you coffee" thing, it's referring to the whole Donna Noble fiasco with her wedding and all that, when she appeared in the TARDIS for no apparent reason. I hope it's clear!**

**Please review or ask any questions you want!**


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